


Day Two: "I can't take this anymore"

by OBlossom



Series: Febuwhump 2021 [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Bullying, Domestic Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, FebuWhump2021, Hurt/Comfort, IronDad and SpiderSon, Mental Health Issues, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Suicidal Thoughts, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:21:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29161824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OBlossom/pseuds/OBlossom
Summary: "It was past his curfew, and save for the fact that he was pretty sure he’d saved the life of that woman in the alley, stopped several muggings, a car accident, and finally caught that pickpocket that’d been targeting tourists for weeks—well, Peter regretted every decision he’d made since getting off of the subway after school."
Relationships: Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Febuwhump 2021 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2138958
Comments: 7
Kudos: 152
Collections: febuwhump 2021





	Day Two: "I can't take this anymore"

**Author's Note:**

> There are some pretty heavy thoughts in here-- if I did it right.
> 
> Please be careful.
> 
> -Colleen xo

Day 2: “I can’t take this anymore.”

“Dude? Are you sure you’re okay? Ned asked for the millionth time. “Maybe you should call Mr. Stark?”

Peter refrained from rolling his eyes, wholly aware that it would definitely aggravate the headache that hadn’t dulled since, well... Flash. He pulled his binder and Spanish textbook out of his locker. “Ned, seriously, I’m—”

“...Still a loser! Isn’t that right, Penis?” 

Peter barely had a chance to brace himself before Flash was slinging his arm and the entirety of his body weight over Peter’s shoulder and laughing. “I still can’t believe you didn’t see that soccer ball coming!”

Peter shoved Flash’s arm off. “Shut up, Flash.” Peter growled. “It’s sort of hard to see something coming when it’s behind you.”

Ned’s eyes widened. “But Pete?” he started, “Your Peter tin—”

How Ned had managed to keep Peter’s identity a secret so far was a mystery. “Yes! Ned!” Peter interrupted. “My Peter tinnitus!” 

Ned floundered.

“Yeah, it totally sucks!” Peter’s eyes widened with panic. He definitely wasn’t getting any help from Ned. “It really only flares up when,” he lowered his voice and stared at Flash, “I’m shmucked in the head by uncoordinated teammates.”

“Who are you calling uncoordinated, loser?! That was precision at its finest. In fact, I should totally get someone to hack the school’s security system and get a copy for me! Imagine all the views on my TikTok! Oh! I know—I can loop it! The world will see your idiot face over and over and over... AND over!” Flash finally trailed off with dreams of viral video fame, then looked Peter dead in the eye. “You, Penis Parker, are the best target EVER! I don’t know why I bother with the others.”

Peter’s headache pulsed and he had to bite back a groan. “Look, can we save this for another time, Flash. I’m not in the mood.”

Flash stared at him for a second, blank faced, then quirked an eyebrow. “Okay, Parker, another time? Done. Let’s see how you feel after school, if that’s how you’re gonna be.”

“What? No way—” 

“Stuff it, Penis.” Flash got up in his face. ”You’re about to be my new after school ‘appointment.’ Lucky for that foreign exchange student, huh?” With that declaration, Flash flicked Peter between the eyes and headed down the hall towards his own locker and out of sight. 

Peter let himself fall back into the lockers and rubbed at his forehead with a defeated sigh.

“Peter?” Ned spoke quietly. “If you want, I can call Mr. Hogan for you. Mr. Stark gave me his phone number for emergencies and if this isn’t one then...”

“Ned, please stop.” Peter begged. “We have one more class and then I can head to the tower, take some painkillers, and forget about Flash and this crappy day.”

“But Flash said—”

“Ned, I know what he said!” Peter snapped, then took a hopefully calming breath. “Let me worry about it, alright? Flash is obviously having one of those days and you know it’s better me than someone else when he gets like this.”

Ned shook his head in disagreement. “Dude, no. Not today. You already feel like shit.”

“Well then, you can go and tell Raveed that Flash is looking for some after school entertainment!”

“Maybe if you talked to Morita...?” 

“Seriously, man? Flash has the school admins by the gonads and you know it!” Peter pressed his fingers to his eyes trying to counter the pressure. “Do the iPads in the library generously donated by Harrison Thompson ring a bell?” 

Ned snorted. “How someone named Harrison could CHOOSE to name their kid Eugene, I’ll never get it.”

Peter offered a fake chuckle in return as the warning bell rang. “Ugh, have fun in Comp Sci, man.” Peter moved into their handshake. “Meet you back here after class?”

“Naw, Pete, remember?” Ned’s hands followed Peter’s lead. “I’m getting picked up early. Dentist appointment.”

“Well, crap.” Peter huffed. “Wish me luck then.”

Ned bundled Peter in a hug, “Hello? Dentist?! You wish ME luck!” Ned teased.”Besides, you don’t need luck, Pete. You’re Spider-Man.” And Ned left Peter standing alone in the hallway.  
With no one to fool, Peter deflated. He mumbled a ‘mierda’ and shuffled off to Spanish class.

* * * * * *

Regret.

That was all Peter could focus on as the clock ticked down through the last 20 minutes of class. He regretted not letting Ned call Happy and he definitely regretted leaving his phone in his locker. Now if he wanted to contact anyone, it was with his Starkwatch and that was not something he wanted to deal with. A text saying ‘Hey. Killer headache. Need drugs’ was one thing. Any message sent via the watch was forwarded to ALL of the Avengers—even the newly pardoned ones. 

... And he sure as heck wasn’t dealing with them.

He should have listened to Ned.

Or called someone himself.

Or just drowned himself in the boys’ washroom sink to put himself out of his misery.

... And he still had to deal with Flash.

Crap.

Yup. So much regret. 

10 minutes—5 minutes—2 minutes...

Time slowed to the point where he wondered if the Time Stone was in play. It was just a fleeting, silly thought, but still too soon. His stomach clenched as he thought back on the time when—

Peter jumped as the final bell of the day rang through the room.

Crap.

He swallowed back saliva, the nausea distracting from his headache for a moment. That is until Flash strutted past Peter’s desk, cuffing him across the back of the head, brightening his pain once again.

“Don’t keep me waiting, Parker!” Flash sang out as he exited the classroom.

Double crap.

He tried to drag it out, slowly packing away his school items with unnecessary care. He’d have taken forever if he could, but that dream died with Senora Ramirez’s, “Vamos, Peter! Rapido por favour!” 

Smiling back weakly, he replied, “Si, Senora Ramirez. Adios.” And he skulked out the door. 

The hallway was almost empty by the time Peter made it to his locker, thank goodness. While his enhanced healing had barely started to touch his headache, the exhaustion of his metabolism trying and tentative hunger battling with his queasiness were real and uncomfortable. The quiet was good.

He took some deep breaths. “Okay,” he thought, “No thinking about the stones at school.” 

More focussed, Peter managed to open his locker and grab his phone as it buzzed with a new text but his attempt to read it was interrupted by a rough shove; Peter’s shoulder connecting painfully with the locker’s frame. 

“What part of ‘Don’t keep me waiting’ did you not understand, Penis?” Flash grabbed Peter by the shoulder and spun him around. “This is a smart school, ya’ know. Or maybe Mr. Scholarship doesn’t understand, huh?”

Peter flushed in embarrassment. “I’m smart.” Peter whispered.

“Well, if you’re so smart, you wouldn’t have made me have to come back into the school. Or are you deaf, too?” Flash shoved Peter back into the lockers.  
Peter remained silent. 

Flash slammed Peter back again, his head snapping back, too. “Dammit, Parker! Why do you make me so angry?”

How could anyone answer that question?

Again, Peter impacted the lockers. “You’re so pathetic, Penis. Standing in the gym, begging me to make you suffer.” Peter slammed again. “It’s so satisfying,” Flash hissed. “You’re practically asking for this.” With that, Flash reared back his fist and slammed it into Peter’s cheek. Spider-Man or not, it hurt, and the white bursts of light behind his eyelids spoke to that.

Was he begging for it?

Peter’s thoughts wandered to the time, in that moment when he slid down the wall to the floor. Had Raveed managed to catch his bus? Was he running late? Maybe his host family had picked him up. 

A rough kick to his side pulled him from his thoughts. “There. That’ll keep me going ‘til tomorrow.” Flash grinned and stepped away.

Peter exhaled in relief. 

“Nah,” Flash landed another kick to his thigh. “I lied. THAT will keep me going ‘til tomorrow.” Flash turned and jogged down the hall. “See you then, loser!” He turned the corner and was gone.

Peter closed his eyes and tentatively rested his head against the locker. Okay. It was done. He was okay. Peter picked up the phone that had landed on the floor beside him—Raveed had to be gone by now. 

His phone buzzed again.

3:04pm  
TonyBaloney: Hey! Got Rogues in house for meetings. :( 

3:07pm  
TonyBaloney: Reschedule?

Peter closed his eyes and inhaled. 1... 2... 3... 4... 5... and held the breath, only to lose his focus when his phone buzzed a third and fourth time.

3:08pm  
TonyBaloney: Use that credit card. Buy some Thai for you and Aunt Hottie! 

3:08pm  
TonyBaloney: But don’t tell her I called her that!

3:08pm  
TonyBaloney: Seriously, she’ll kill me.

Peter huffed out a real laugh at that. Aunt May would geld Mr. Stark if she ever found out his nickname for her. Not that he could tell her. But what was he going to do about the weekend? When Mr. Stark had invited him for the weekend, Peter was relieved. May was going away for some training conference in New Jersey and had told Peter to ask Mr. Stark to play babysitter. The spontaneous invite had kept Peter from looking like a kid and May got her wish. Win-win. 

... and now none of that mattered.

3:10pm  
PBWanKenobi: Np, Mr. STart. See you Tuesday?

3:10pm  
PBWanKenobi: *Stark

His phone didn’t buzz again, and Peter didn’t expect it to. The Rogues tended to keep Mr. Stark pretty distracted. Besides, even feeling like hot garbage, Peter could still get excited about a suddenly free night of Spider-Manning. And really, how much energy would he expend helping little old ladies crossing the street?

* * * * * *

Hours later, Peter could ignore that deep ache across his shoulders and back and even the occasional tug as his mask stuck to the healing cut on his cheek. The headache was still a little much (read that as borderline unbearable), but he’d call the evening a win.

He was swinging and considering stopping at that new Mexican place across from the Dunkin’ Donuts for a burrito or two when his Spidey-senses flared and Spider-Man was twisting away from his original course toward an alley about a three blocks down the street.

His senses blared now. “Karen, call 9-1-1.” 

“Peter, if I call now, you run the risk—”

“Don’t care.” His neck almost burned from the intensity. “Call now.” 

A woman screamed in obvious pain. 

“And tell them to send an ambulance.”

“Calling...” Karen responded and left Spider-Man to do what he did best. Save the day.

Spider-Man took no time to assess the situation and react: A man and a woman in a physical altercation- well, more like a behemoth of a man beating the shit out of this poor lady, oblivious to the fact that someone had joined the party.

She’d fallen unconscious, only held up by her hair grasped in his one hand as he pulled his fist back to punch her again with the other. A thwip of webbing and the man’s fist stopped in its path.

“Wha-?”

“Hey! Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?!” Spider-Man called out as he gave the webbing a yank and pulled the man away from his victim while blasting a cushion of webbing onto the concrete beneath the woman’s head.

The man’s initial confusion had passed quickly enough. He tried to remove the webbing from his right hand, but when that failed, simply went after Spider-Man with his left. “You got no business, here, ya’ freak!” He raged as he swung and missed. “She’s my woman! You got no say!” He swung and missed again.

“Dude,” Spider-Man jumped back, “Women have had the vote for, like, a hundred years! I’m pretty sure that she’s,” He jumped back again, “not your property, man!”

“She’s mine, ya’ bastard! And she knows what she did!” he raged, “She deserves everything she gets.” The man lunged one last time, going full bore on the young vigilante—and playing right into the trap. His fist came down as Spider-Man jumped up onto the alley wall. The crunch was nauseating and Peter was sure the man had to have broken at least three knuckle bones, if not several bones in his hand proper. He dropped his knees and cradled his injury, whimpering.

Spider-Man took advantage, securing the man to the ground with more webbing. He wasn’t going anywhere.

That taken care of, he rushed to the still unconscious woman on the ground. Now that he’d taken care of that dude, he could focus. “Karen, ETA on the ambulance?” He kneeled beside her prone body, better taking in her injuries.

“Two minutes, Peter.”

Okay, he could do two minutes. Her breathing was a little rough, and both of her eyes were swollen shut. He looked away, focused on the ground beside her and—were those teeth? This wasn’t the first beaten woman he’d helped, but he couldn’t shake off the feeling that this one was different. He pulled in deep breath, and shook his head to try and clear it... but then this damned headache. No. Help would be here soon and she’d be okay. Yeah, she’d be okay. He was sure of it. He grabbed her hand, “You’ll be fine, lady. Help is coming.”

He pulled in a breath. He was okay.

The man in the webs sneered. “Awww, you’re so cute. Thinking that this is the last of it.” Spider-Man glared back him. The man gave a chin nod in her direction. “Who do you think is gonna bail me out?”

“No one deserves this, man! Why’d you do it? You could’ve killed her?” Spider-Man yelled. “Why?”

The man laughed, ugly and low. “You wanna know why?”

Spider-Man stared back at him.

"I’ll tell you why. ‘Cuz she’s so stupid, the bitch practically begs me to hit her. She needs to remember her place, that she’s nothin’ without me.” The man sneered, “and sometimes, it just feels so damn good.”

Flash’s words from earlier in the day suddenly echoed through Peter’s head. Yeah, Spider-Man was done for the day and Peter had a lot to think about.

“Karen, ETA?”

“Arrival is imminent. Might I suggest taking refuge on a rooftop to avoid detection by the local authorities?”

Peter looked at the bruised and swollen woman on the ground, gently placed her hand at her side, and then Spider-Man plastered a patch of webbing across the woman beater’s mouth. Peter didn’t want to listen to him anymore.

The ambulance and patrol car skidded to a halt in front of the alleyway almost simultaneously. A police officer exited his vehicle with weapon drawn and preparing to clear the alley for the EMTs to come down with their equipment.

“Peter?” Karen inquired.

“Yeah, I know. That’s my cue to leave.” And with the flick of a wrist, Spider-Man was off and away from the scene.

* * * * * *

It was past his curfew, and save for the fact that he was pretty sure he’d saved the life of that woman in the alley, stopped several muggings, a car accident, and finally caught that pickpocket that’d been targeting tourists for weeks—well, he regretted every decision he’d made since getting off of the subway after school. 

He’d planned to stop after that man, but an inexplicable need to atone for his very existence ate at him and within minutes of stopping on that first rooftop, he was off and at it again.

And now his face still bled, his head pounded, and he wondered if his shoulder had dislocated and then corrected itself at some point in the evening. His ribs ached, his bruises throbbed, and something... something gnawed at his gut. No. Not something. Everything gnawed at his gut and thoughts were swirling around in his brain and he kept wondering why and how and if...

“Incoming call from Tony Stark.”

Peter closed his eyes and drew in a calming breath.

“Peter?” Mr. Stark’s deceptively calm voice came over the comm. “Care to explain to me why I’m having to give the Spider-Baby a call at 1:27 on a Saturday morning when your curfew is midnight on the weekend?”

He didn’t know what to say, so he stuck to the truth, “I’m just thinking, Mr. Stark. I promise.”

“And you can’t do that from the comfort of your own home?”

Peter closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure that was the best plan, being alone in that exact moment.

“Pete? Are you going to answer me, ‘cuz Karen and FRI are both works of AI genius and I know this call hasn’t dropped.”

Peter inhaled again. That realization made it all too much. He wanted to... 

“Pete?” Mr. Stark was alert now. “Pete? What’s going on?” 

“I’m...” a sob fought its way free. What was Peter supposed to say? He wanted so badly to say he was good—that he was great and just taking in the cityscape before heading back to the apartment. He wanted to talk about the hot dog vendor who gives him extra sauerkraut on his hot dogs, ‘cuz it’ll put hair on his chest. Heck, he’d have settled for a story about free churros...

But he just felt so heavy.

“Peter, I’m calling up a suit now. I can be to you in two minutes.” 

Two minutes? He had two minutes, and then Mr. Stark would know that Spider-Man wasn’t a superhero—he was a distraction, a target, a victim. That he existed solely for the universe to pour all of its hate and misfortune onto him for the benefit of others. That no matter how hard he tried, it would never be enough. That maybe Flash and Toomes and every punch and kick and stab were karma for Ben? His parents? That maybe if he wasn’t here...” Peter sobbed again. How could he say that all in two minutes? 

Instead, Peter whispered, “Mr. Stark? I can’t take this anymore.”

There was a silence, then, and Peter panicked at the thought he’d said too much. 

“I mean—it’s okay, I just...” 

“Pete. Hang on just thirty more seconds, okay? I’m coming to you, right now. Do you hear me?”

Peter nodded.

Mr. Stark chuckled, “I can’t hear you nod, kid.”

“I hear you,” he breathed.

“Okay, ‘cuz I bet there’s a lot of stuff goin’ on in that head of yours that needs some revisiting and I imagine it’s not processing quite right just now, what with the concussion you’ve been dealing with,” Mr. Stark cussed under his breath. “Kid, Karen is telling FRI that you already had that concussion when the suit went on?”

Peter huffed a laugh and looked out onto the city. “Um,” his voice warbled as he answered, “It’s been a pretty shitty day.” He could see Iron Man in the distance.

“Definitely sounds like there’s a story there, kid.” Mr. Stark landed a few feet away then moved towards him, faceplate flipping up to reveal a look of concern. “I want to hear it but first, I think you need this.” The Iron Man armour melted away and Mr. Stark pulled Peter into his arms. 

Peter tensed. The hugging thing wasn’t new for them, but Peter was convinced that he didn’t deserve this—any of this and he couldn’t... couldn’t...”

“Hey, kid, you’re safe here.” Mr. Stark soothed. “I’ve got you.” 

Peter burrowed himself into Mr. Stark’s chest, then shook his head ‘no.’

His head hurt so bad and he couldn’t stop crying.

“Hey, FRI? Can he take the mask off?”

A voice spoke out from the watch resting by his ear. “I’m afraid not, Boss. There are several CCTV cameras set for specific ongoing undercover operations. This would disrupt four active stake outs and potential chain of evidence.”

“Damn.” Tony thought for a second. “Hey, buddy,” leaned to talk quietly into Peter’s ear. “I’m gonna give you a lift, ‘kay? We’ll hang out at the tower, just like we planned and have a bit of a staycation this weekend, sound good?” 

Peter’s energy level was ebbing but, even still, he remembered, “No, don’t want the Avengers to see me like this.” He pleaded.

“Yeah, they flaked after the last meeting wrapped up, bud. The tower’s free and clear. It’d be you and me and bad 80s sci-fi. What do you say?”

Peter shrugged. It was all he could give.

And Mr. Stark took it. “Okay, kiddo, I’m gonna let of you now so I can get back into my suit, okay? And then I’m gonna pick you up so we can get this party started... whenever you’re ready.”

Peter hesitated, and then pulled himself out of Mr. Stark’s arms. Peter stepped back, looking unsure of himself. 

With the tap of a button, the suit completely encased the man in seconds. “Alrighty, then. How do you want to do this, Pete? Piggy-back? Bridal-style?”

Peter was paralyzed with indecision. “I... I... um...”

The faceplate flipped up again and Tony took in the boy’s state, “How’s about dealer’s choice, hey?”

Peter nodded in relief and managed to not squeak when Iron Man scooped him up into his metal arms. “Why don’t you just relax. I’ve got ya’.” And with that, Iron Man rocketed off the rooftop and towards Avengers Tower.

It seemed that Mr. Stark didn’t feel as much urgency returning to the tower as he had when he’d headed over to Peter on the roof. 

It was nice.

“Hey, Pete?” Mr. Stark interrupted the quiet, “I’m lookin’ at the injury report that Karen sent FRIDAY. I know you can’t be feeling great, so how’s about we make a quick pit stop at the medbay and get you checked out, huh?”

“I’m fine.” The words left his mouth before he could process it.

Mr. Stark was quiet for a minute, and then, “You know, Pete, just because you can deal with feeling bad or are even used to feeling bad, it doesn’t mean you have to settle for it.”

Peter remained silent. 

“You don’t deserve to be in pain, bud.”

How could Peter reply to that? He lowered his head into the Iron Man’s chest and they continued onward.

Within moments, they were touching down on the landing pad outside of the Stark penthouse. Peter waited to be put down, but Mr. Stark walked forward, the suit dismantling around him until it was simply Mr. Stark carrying him. 

“Mr. Stark?”

“Hang on, kid. Almost there.” He grunted in exertion.

They made their way to the couch where Tony gently placed Peter, sitting him down on the couch before planting himself on the coffee table in front of it. 

“Okay, first things first,” Tony announced and reached forward to carefully remove the Spider-Man mask. 

Peter allowed it, but kept his eyes lowered.

But Mr. Stark wouldn’t allow that. Mr. Stark cupped Peter’s cheek and guided Peter’s face upward. Peter tried to look away, but Mr. Stark refused to allow it.

“Peter Parker, you look me in the eye right now, please.”

His tears welled up again, but he did it.

“Good job, kid. Now I need you listen to me, and you listen to me good.”

Peter couldn’t look away.

“You do not need to be okay with feeling bad.”

Peter shook his head to disagree.

Tony continued. “You do not deserve to feel bad,” Tony wiped away Peter’s tears. “And you sure as hell do not need to hide from any of the people that love you that you feel bad.” Mr. Stark moved his calloused hand from Peter’s face to brush a curl from his forehead. “If you need a list of people who love you, they include, but are not exclusive to: Your Aunt May, Ned, MJ, Rhodey—who still wants you to call him Uncle Rhodey, by the way.”

Peter chuckled.

Mr. Stark beamed, “Now where was I? Oh, yeah! Happy—just don’t tell him I told you,” Mr. Stark gave a conspiratorial wink at that one. “Pepper! And Brucie! Do I need to keep going? ‘Cuz I will. Hell, I bet that guy that makes your sandwiches loves you, kid.”

Peter didn’t know what to say.

“I’m at the top of that list, Peter.” Peter could hear the affection in Mr. Stark’s voice.

“You, Mister Peter Park, are allowed to not be okay. Sometimes life is shit, but half the fun is in getting through this together. You got me?”

Peter managed a timid nod.

“Good, so do you wanna go to the medbay and see if we have something for the killer headache you’ve got to have?”

“Please,” Peter replied.

“You’re feeling pretty bad?” 

“Yeah, and, uh...” Peter didn’t quite know how to say it. “Um, I’m not okay.”

Tony shuffled closer, pulled Peter into an all-encompassing hug, and whispered, “I hear you, Peter, but we’re gonna get you there.”

**Author's Note:**

> And that is two consecutive days. Yay me!


End file.
